


A Conversation Regarding Orphans

by aetherio



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Canon Compliant, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, Pre-Slash, Zevran was Not Expecting That
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 14:38:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14854661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aetherio/pseuds/aetherio
Summary: While the Grey Wardens are trying to stop the Blight, there is a lot of walking, which leaves a lot of time for thinking. To break up the monotony, Zevran strikes up a conversation with Warden Amell. It does not go as expected.





	A Conversation Regarding Orphans

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time posting fic, so apologies in advance for any mess-ups.  
> Many thanks to Annas307 for beta-reading and encouraging me to start writing fic in the first place.

The road was bumpy, and uneven, and muddy, and long. All in all, it was not the most pleasant journey Zevran had undertaken. But compared to the alternative, (which was being dead,) and now that they were leaving the damnable village of Haven and the Maker-accursed frozen mountains behind with it, he wasn’t going to complain. (Well, not much anyway.)  
  
And he had travelled in much worse company. Most of their party had grown used to him, Alistair and Leliana were good conversation partners, Morrigan only glared occasionally, and Wynne was endlessly amusing to tease. Not to mention his enigmatic benefactor and their motley group’s de facto leader, Daylen Amell.  
  
The endlessly frustrating, ruggedly handsome, completely-unaware-of-his-own-attractiveness, lightning-throwing, very dangerous (although that only made him more alluring, in Zevran’s opinion. He had never been credited with much common sense,) perhaps just a touch too forgiving for his own good, one of the last Grey Wardens of Fereldan, Daylen Amell.  
  
A Grey Warden who was seemingly enthralled with the ground in front of his feet, as opposed to the world around him, or Zevran himself. Something that he had no interest in letting continue.   
  
Zevran dropped into step beside Daylen. “What are you doing, my dear Warden?” When the mage didn’t respond, Zevran stepped closer and tapped his shoulder.  
  
“Hmmm?” Daylen looked up, startled out of his reverie, and smiled, “Hi, Zev. Didn’t see you. Thinking.”  
  
“Truly a novel activity for you.” Zevran said, dancing out of the way as Daylen took a playful swing at him.  
  
“Bastard,” Daylen laughed, Zevran out of reach long before his hand had a hope of connecting “ _Sneaky_ bastard.”

Zevran laughed with him, falling into step again. “I have never denied that charge. But tell me, my dear Warden; what thoughts had you so deeply entranced that you failed to notice my approach?”

“I’m not sure I should tell you, Zev. Your ego’s large enough as it is.”

“Ahhh, you were thinking about me, were you?” Daylen ducked his head, dark hair falling into his eyes. Zevran could feel a catlike grin spreading over his features at Daylen’s reaction, knowing he’d hit the mark. “I should have known- it is nothing to be ashamed of, my dear Warden. I am quite alluring, after all……"

Daylen chuckled, grey eyes meeting Zevran’s amber for a moment before the mage looked away. “That you are, Zev,” and again, softer, “that you are.”

Zevran hummed an old Antivan tune, as they walked in companionable silence. Alistair and Morrigan’s latest argument drifted to them on the breeze, and further away the Mabari’s excited barking. Probably chasing some poor, hapless rodent.

After a few minutes he asked, “So, on what part of me were you thinking, my dear Warden?”

This time it was Daylen who gained a Cheshire grin, and a carefully raised eyebrow. He said nothing.

This could not stand. “Come now, I must know.” Zevran dashed ahead and turned, facing Daylen to put his persuasive powers to better use and donning a hurt look. “You are not so cruel as to keep me in the agony of suspense!”

“You know me so well, do you?” Daylen stepped around him with a bemused shake of his head. Zevran had to hurry to keep up.

“Perhaps not,” Zevran conceded, slipping back into his customary place at Daylen’s right. “Truly I had not suspected you could be such a tease. It is most frustrating.”

Daylen’s lopsided smile widened, and the mischievous glint that signalled ‘mayhem’ entered his eye. “Not used to being on the receiving end, Zev?” he said, sparks of electricity flickering between his fingers as they always did when the Warden was amused. (Or excited. Or nervous. But in this case, amusement seemed the most likely cause.)

That gave Zevran pause, until- “Oh, now you are just playing dirty!”

Daylen burst into gales of laughter, sparks flickering through his hair now, too, while Zevran did his best to appear indignant.

“You wound me, dear Warden- when I have been nothing but amicable to you! Tell me, what have I done to deserve this?”

“Turnabout’s fair play, Zev,” Daylen wheezed, wiping a few tears from the corner of his eye. “And you’re one to talk.”

“Ahh, so it seems the lovely Wynne was right about my wicked ways coming back to haunt me,” Zevran said, “although it would be best if she never learns of it. Is there no way I can convince you to end this torture?”

“Not at the moment.” Daylen chuckled, shading his eyes to check the position of the afternoon sun. The day was all but cloudless, and for the first time in weeks it wasn’t raining.

“Truly this is an accursed day! I fear I shall have to live the rest of my life in suffering.” Zevran tossed one of his knives in the air as he walked, watching the light spark off the blade.

Daylen heaved his shoulders and gave a dramatic sigh. “Well we can’t have that….”

“Are you saying that you shall relent, my dear Warden?” Zevran caught the hilt of the blade and balanced it on his fingers, sneaking a glance at Daylen out of the corner of his eye.

“You’re very persuasive.” Daylen replied, shrugging.

“So I have often been told. Usually by besotted young nobles after I had gotten them to join me in bed. Now tell me, what is it you were thinking of?” Zevran said.

The pensive look returned, and Daylen started, slightly hesitant. “That story you told me, about how you got mugged by orphans?”

“Yes. Not one of my proudest moments, I must confess.”

“You could’ve killed them all easily, couldn’t you?”

Zevran froze, causing Daylen to stop as well. “…. How do you mean?”

“You…. are very skilled, Zevran.” Daylen fixed his eyes on one of the trees to the side of the road as he talked, arms pulled tight against his chest while he found the words he needed. “A good strategist and a clever fighter, able to turn almost any situation to your advantage. Even if you lost your weapons in the river, there’s no way a band of street urchins could’ve robbed you blind.” He looked at Zevran again and away, tense, waiting. (Almost like he was expecting some sort of reprisal. Zevran didn't want to think too hard about what that might mean. Not right now.)

He opted instead to retreat to familiar ground. “I am insulted. I would never lie about being mugged by orphans. Not to mention the insult you have done to the orphans themselves. I do not know how it is in Fereldan, but I shall have you know that Antivan street urchins are quite vicious.” Zevran said, sheathing his knife.

“I never said they weren’t,” Daylen flexed his fingers, the lines of lightning coiling around his hand like so much yarn. His voice was soft and steady when he spoke next. “But no matter how vicious Antivan orphans are, I doubt they’d be a match for you. I think you let them rob you.”

Zevran took a step back, miming a knife to the chest. “You wound me, my dear Warden! Besmirching my honour in such a way! What has given rise to these baseless accusations? I suspect Morrigan is to blame. Whatever lies she has been telling you, I assure you that I have done no such things!” He paused for a moment, considering. “Well, depending upon what she has been suggesting, I may have done several such things, knowing her general opinion of me. But I doubt I have done anything overly objectionable _recently_.”

“Alright, alright, Zevran,” Daylen laughed, tension evaporating swiftly as it had appeared. “I apologize.”

“As long as you promise to refrain from slandering my good name in the future, I shall graciously accept.” Zevran gave a mock bow and a smirk, enjoying the return to good humour, ~~and the safety it provided.~~

“I promise, Zev.” Daylen smiled, and for a moment Zevran almost thought he saw something genuinely fond in the Warden’s eyes. _(Not **his** Warden. Just **the** Warden. Don't forget that.)_  
  
“Thank you.” He hadn’t taken five steps when Daylen spoke, freezing him in place.

“For the record, I still think you let those urchins rob you.”

“What could possibly have given you that idea?” Zevran asked, as Daylen drew level with him.

Daylen finally met his eyes, and smiled. “I’ve met you. You have a good heart, Zevran Arainai. It will take a lot more than your categorical denial to convince me otherwise.”

And like a mirage, Daylen was ahead of him once more, leaving Zevran wondering if he had imagined what he’d heard. If it weren’t for the ever-louder bickering of the rest of their party, he wouldn’t have been sure their conversation happened at all.

But the Grey Warden was whistling for his war-dog, and called over his shoulder, “You alright, Zev? If you need a rest….”

That shook him out of his daze, “Not at all, my dear Warden. You should know by now that I possess excellent stamina.” Zevran jogged to Daylen’s side. “You will have to work much harder if you wish to be rid of me.”


End file.
